Web Of Lies
by LunaMei
Summary: Clarissa Adele Morgenstern. That is the name of the future queen of the shadowhunter world. Clary has been sent by Valentine to the Brooklynn institute to infiltrate and begin the downfall of the shadowhunters and take over with another breed of Demon blood warriors. If she succedes in her father's wishes, she will become the first queen of the dark world. But will she succeed?
1. Chapter 1

So, this idea has been in my head for a while now and everytime I decided to shove it down it bobbed up again. So now I'm writing it. Hope you enjoy c:

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><p>She stood at the foot of her bed, covered with emerald sheets and black lace overlay. A black silk blanket covered it. She was dressed in her shadowhunter gear and strapped the basic weapons to herself. At her waist, her weapon belt held a small purse laden with warlock magic. The purse had infinite storage, anything of any size could fit inside. It was there where she stored all her other weapons, clothing, art supplies, photographs and other necessities. She slid an ordinary sky blue to white stele into her boot. Her special stele engraved with her initials -just like her other special weapons- went in her magical purse. The stele had an ever-flickering flame encased within ice taken from the seventh ring of hell. She was told the flame inside was heavenly fire, the ice brought by a demon her father had summoned and ordered to create the casing, the stele filled with fire by the angel who's blood ran through her veins. Just as she had finished, there was a knock on her door.<p>

"Come in."

Her father stepped in. He was dressed in black royal garb, obsidian glittered in the candle black silk and velvet clothing rippled with him movements. His crown was carved from obsidian as well, a round mass of jagged, Spiked stones. Like tear drops who's spike resembled a broken glass.

He was the king of shadows, she was his princess, and Jonathan was the prince. Only her traitorous mother was missing.

"My beloved Clarissa, soon we will be able to leave this small kingdom and claim the entire shadowhunter world as ours, and you will be their queen. I will give you the throne if you succeed."

The girl - who's very hair resembled that of the flame in her stele- nodded, and made her way to the portal.

"With these hands I will claim what is mine, and with these hands I will carve my crown: The symbol of my accomplishments."

was her response to her father.

As she stepped through the portal, she hurriedly slid her tiara inside her purse. A small simple thing of a single row of 17 obsidian teardrops growing like a crescendo and decrescendo symbol who's edges touched. Each stone joined by the purest gold.

She brought it as a reminder of her goal.

She would not fail.

- - -Page break- page break-

She walked the darkened streets of Brooklyn to the institute, her clothes ripped and bloody, her breath ragged as pain wreaked her body; but she would walk around the world if her father asked her to. To see his proud expression and hear him say "good job Clarissa. You've done well." was all she lived for. She smiled, feeling the dried blood on her lips crack, already hearing her father's praise.

She spotted the institute and went up to the heavy oak door, raised the wrought iron knocker -a lion with its lips curled in an angry sneer- and knocked three times.

She maintained her gaze on the ground as the door opened and the woman spoke.

"How may i-"

pause

"By the angel, what happened to you child?"

Clarissa took this as her cue and willed her knees to buckle, to feign the perfect weakness her father and Jonathan had taught her.

but it wasn't all false, the weight of portal travel and miles of walking had taken a toll on her.

The last thing she heard was the woman's loud authoritative shouts for help, she felt strong arms pick her up. She allowed her body to become limp, concentrating of the voices around her, placing identities to the unknown voices.

'Maryse Lightwood

Robert Lightwood

Isabelle Lightwood

Alexander Lightwood

Jace Herondale.

'I will begin my web of lies, here.'

i thought before the darness claimed me.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay. So first things first...

I AM SORY I HAVE BEEN BUSY AS ALL HELL AND NO I WILL NOT CHANGE MY LANGUAGE ITS MY LIFE AND ILL LIVE IT HOWEVER I WANT TO.

Without further adeu, here ya go!

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><p>chapter dos<p>

I awoke to hushed whispering.

"Silence. Allow me to sleep."

I commanded, lifting a hand and swatting at the air above me before turning round in my bed.

'_Why are these sheets so rough? Are they not silk? I'll have to have the maids replace them.'_

I thought.

"Hello? Miss please wake up. We need to ask you a few questions."

'_We? Who is this woman and why does she pester me so?'_

I thought before it struck me.

'_I am not home. This is not my maid. Where am I?'_

I jumped up in alarm, tossing off the rough sheets and into a fighting stance. A seraph blade in hand.

"Woah woah woah, calm down there short-stack. No one's gonna hurt you."

Said a boy with golden hair and eyes, arms raise in a defensive pose, skin covered in runes.

"Short, stack? I do not, understand."

I said, half to him and half to me.

_'Is it a compliment? Many of my suitors did so for a chance on the throne.'_

The smirk on his face told me otherwise.

"You're short. A short stack is an insult aimed at your shortness."

"How dare you!"

Blushing furiously, I raked my mind for something Aline had once said.

"I am simply vertically challenged you heathen!"

I exclaimed, shaking a seraph blade at him threateningly.

"Okay, why are you speaking like it's the 1800's?"

Questioned a tall, gorgeous girl with jet black hair as she strode inside the room.

Her question puzzled me until I realized no one had spoken formally in over a century. I struggled to recall the modern way of speech and changed the way I processed thoughts and how I spoke.

"S-sorry."

I said, trying out the new form of speech.

"I was raised to speak like that. My father refused to allow me to become like the rest of the uncultured world."

'_Still too cultured'_

I thought.

"Well your dad sounds like a dick."

Said the black haired girl.

"Isabelle! Mind your manners!"

Maryse yelled.

Isabelle I presume, simply rolled her eyes.

My brows furrowed.

"My father's name is not dick it's-"

I froze.

'_Idiot idiot! You're not supposed to say who he is!'_

Jace laughed with Isabelle.

Maryse didn't miss the pause.

"Who's your father then?"

'_Shit shit shit shit.'_

"I-I don't know. I can't remember."

I lied, letting my inner panic show to further support my lie.

'_This wasn't what you were supposed to tell them! Oh well, it's better than the stupid warlock brainwash story.'_

With every question I would create my lie.

I sat down in the bed and wrapped an arm around my waist and I pressed my hand to my forehead.

"I don't remember."

I let panic seep into my voice, desperation into my features.

'_If you're going to lie, turn it into a masterpiece: without a flaw to be seen_.'

I remembered my father telling me once.

I turned to look at them.

"Why can't I remember?"

I demanded.

Maryse came over and put her hands on my shoulders.

"Calm down. What's your name?"

I 'calmed' down.

paused, hurrying to give a false name.

'_Amatis? No. What could that name be? Aha! Analise.'_

I struggled to recall a name from a character in the latest book I had read.

I was sure the struggle shone clearly on my face.

"Analise. It's analise."

"Your last name?"

She asked.

" I can't remember."

"Where are you from?"

" I don't know. I think it starts with an 's'."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I-I was attacked by a demon and couldn't hold my own. I blacked out and woke up in an alley. I fled from there and wound up on your door."

I paused and decided to pop in a bit of foreshadowing for the hell of it.

"Reign. I think my last name is Reign. I'm 16, my birthday is in three days."

I added with a cheeky smile.

Which, by the way, was not a lie.

(A/n I absolutely loathe the way cheeky disgusting, revolting. Must burn some words out of every dictionary.)

"Alright Analise. I'll have the silent brothers come in to look inside your head. In the mean time, simply make yourself at home. We'll call a seamstress in and have her make you some clothes and training outfits since it seems you will be staying here a while. Jace, Isabelle, one of you show her around."

And with that she and Isabelle strode out of the room. Presumably to make the necessary arrangements for my stay.

'It seems this is going better than expected.'

I thought.

Itching at some of the bloody bandages on my arm before simply ripping them off.

"Woah, wait, don't do that! That's a pois-!"

Jace yelled before he noticed that the previously seething red welt was now a normal pink bit of flesh.

"How? Even runes are not that quick to heal a poison that strong."

Asked Jace, confusion dancing in his eyes after moment of silence.

Before I could stop myself I answered.

"Runes work better on me Than most other shadowhunters."

I answered as if it were obvious.

"For some reason."

I added hurriedly.

"Oh."

He now stared at me intently, as if he were memorizing every feature. as if I were a criminal he had come across before and was struggling to identify.

I felt as if it were Jonathan or my father staring at me after I made a mistake during training and fidgeted under his gaze.

"S-stop staring at me."

I blurted before haphazardly placing my palms on his chest and pushing him away.

He hardly moved.

He continued to stare.

Annoyance bloomed and before thinking I gripped a pillow and whacked him over the head with it.

He looked at me with bewilderment as if I had shaken him from a train of thought.

"I told you to stop staring you big dolt."

I muttered.

He continued staring.

I simply got up and wandered the halls.

They were decorated in an elegant scarlet and ivory Victorian scheme. Heavy carpet covered the ground. Scarlet wallpaper with intricate designs decorated the walls and candleholders with lit candles lined the walls. Victorian style paintings and tables were scattered here and there with potpourri, stationary, a pen and pot of ink, candle and wax seal with the insignia of the Brooklyn institute.

"Where are you going?"

Asked Jace.

"I'm looking for the training room."

"You just woke up and you want to go train?"

Jace stated more that said incredulously.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Yes. My father told me that injuries were no excuse. In battle you must keep fighting even if you're riddled with injuries, and I especially must grow accustomed to it."

I explained.

'Marvelous. I probably said a bit too much. I must learn to think twice about what I say.'

I thought, knowing he would question as to why it was me father focused on.

"Why you especially ?"

He asked.

"I tended to be very lazy with training. So he would make sure I trained and perfected everything."

I lied quickly.

The truth was that father wanted me to grow used to it, for it would be me who led our demon shadowhunters into war.

"So that's why you're looking for the room?"

"Yes. It's. Become a habit and besides, it brings me comfort."

I said, irritation grew at his arsenal of questions.

"A room filled with deadly weapons and obstacles comforts you?"

"Would you rather have the weapon in hands during battle or your enemy?"

I snapped.

Upon finally locating the room, I grabbed a series of weapons and positioned myself in the knife throwing area.

Spreading my legs and finding my center of gravity, I slid into a fighting stance.

'_Now Clarissa, never look at your subject. Look next to it. Stare at the aura. Everything in this world has one. Your angel blood will naturally find the aura. Raise your weapon and strike, your enemy will fall dead every time. You can find the aura even with your eyes closed.'_

I closed my eyes, raised my arm and let the blades fly towards the light that shone even behind my eyelids.

Soft thuds followed one another and occasional clangs were heard as blades slid from the Target.

When I opened my eyes, all the blades were compacted into the very center of the bullseye.

i collected my blades and stood to do it again.

"Bet you feel all special don't you?"

Jace chided.

"You do it then."

With an arrogant stagger, he walked towards the target and mimicked my earlier actions.

I let out a loud chortle.

Blades were stuck everywhere besides the target.

"W-what? How?"

He he collected his knives after a moment, and tried again.

We spent the afternoon like that.

In the end, the closest he got was a blade in the ring surrounding the bullseye.


	3. Authors note

Ok, so I've been struck with a bad case of writers block. I will try to get over it as soon as possible and I hope you can deal with me. I'm soooo sorry.


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